


The Fight

by asmallkitten



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty Schmoop, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmallkitten/pseuds/asmallkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a my mind thinks a lot about Mariullen in the 'Just had a big fight, is that really the last thing I ever said to them?' trope so I had to put it down in words...sorry about that. I am soppy, I know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fight

“Stop being ridiculous Mariella. You will take Cassandra and Bull and Solas.” 

Cullen stood directly across the small table from his angry inquisitor. She squared her shoulders, chin jerking up a fraction.

“For the last time Cullen, no. I’m going alone. We don’t know what will happen, should I fall you will need all the help you can get. I’m the only one who should do this. I can’t risk anyone else going and dying.”

Anyone else. That was the phrase that shattered Cullen’s resistance, pent up frustration and the ache of lyrium withdrawal pulsing like two drums inside his skull.

The table was tossed aside with a swift movement of the warrior’s arm. Crossing the distance between them, he stopped to bear down upon her. The inquisitor flinched but did not falter and they both stood, gazes flaming and locked for a moment before the commander spoke.

“Still so eager for death!?” he seethed “Why not just throw yourself from the battlements, save Corypheus the trouble?!”

Things happened very fast then, a choked cry came from Mariella before she visibly teared up and then turned tail and quickly fled, leaving him alone in her chambers. 

Cullen couldn’t move for a few minutes, rendered immobile in equal parts by anger and regret. His palms ached when his fists unclenched – deep crescents left by his nails – and he sighed before walking to replace the table he’d thrown along with the chairs knocked over in the process. Deep shamed weighed down until the ex-templar sat heavily. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck; he shouldn’t have said that but how else was he to make her understand how he felt about her blatant disregard for her own safety? No, it didn’t matter, nothing could justify saying that to her. He knew better, knew exactly what she’d been through to render that one of the most insensitive things he could have possibly said. He needed to apologise and as soon as possible but couldn’t think of trying to track her down, it was the early hours of the morning and he would not wake any inquisition members to hear their commander pleading with the herald. He would not allow it. No, he would just sit and wait for her to return, to grow weary and retire to bed. 

The warrior sat patiently waiting for an hour before falling asleep at the table, he awoke to his name being called.

“Cullen?”

Had she finally returned? The commander lifted his head to joyfully look upon her, only to see Cassandra standing in her place. She looked as confused as he felt. His head whipped around to her bed, only to find it empty, neatly folded and undisturbed.  
“Where is she!?” he demanded, turning back to the seeker.

Cassandra’s eyes widened and then narrowed, brows pulling tightly together “That is what I wanted to ask you. We were meant for training half an hour ago but she never came. I know you two fought so I thought you could both have just slept in, but when I went to your loft neither of you were there and so I came here, only to find you!”   
The panic was seeping into her voice and Cullen felt his heart drop.  
“Have you spoken to the others? Asked anyone else? She could be with Dorian?” 

“No I didn’t bother, thought she would be here. This is very strange Cullen.”

“I’m going to ask around.”

“I’ll come with you.”

The warriors quickly established none of the companions had seen her, nor Josephine or Leliana. Dorian joined their quest and soon they learned one of the night watchman had heard the clattering of a horse in the early morning. This information had the three at the stables, and sure enough, Mariella’s large, dark dapple-grey stallion was gone. It’s master with it.

But that was exactly a week ago. A week ago exactly since Cullen’s world was turned on its head. No word had reached any of the companions of their leader’s whereabouts. Not even Leliana’s scouts had given them any more of a clue.

Cole came as a surprising source of both some comfort and also frustration in equal measures. He would occasionally appear and frighten the commander out of any reverie with strange words: “Do not despair, she will return here, but whether she returns to you or not is uncertain; she always thought of you like a prince from the books and she somehow still does; those words hurt her more than any wound, never say such a thing again!” the last was shouted at him from the behind the throne one day. He’d never understood the rapport between his love and the boy, but in her absence it became clear just how much he understood her. Maker, he’d go to a spirit for a relationship advice if it meant having her back…

An outsider wouldn’t have noticed much of a difference in how the Inquisition had functioned during its week sans chef. It seemed somehow extra busy but quiet: jobs were getting done, but slower; quests completed, but with more casualties; the troops continued training but were not receiving the feedback they were used to. The latter would have been seen as a blessing to the recruits but it seemed, from his demeanour, to have come at the price of the Commander’s soul. No one would speak of the herald in more than a whisper.

Cullen had made a habit of visiting her chamber every night. This night, with the wind howling through the keep and the relentless pour of rain outside, was no exception. Although, for the first time he lingered, sat on her bed, buried his face in the pillows. He had not allowed this indulgence before, but it hit full force now as he wept quietly at Mariella’s scent still permeating the linen. He clutched at himself, a strong sob tearing from his throat, burnt into the back of his eyelids was her face: the quivering lip, devastation clear as day in her eyes. The face she’d made when he’d said what he had. The face of the only woman he’d ever loved being crushed by his own words. They may have hurt her but they were torturing him. How could he? She had bared her heart and soul to him, given him what he’d stopped believing possible a long time ago. She gave him so much and he’d driven her away, forever, it seemed. Either that or – although it was excruciating to even consider – she had decided to follow the heated advice he’d thrown her way. How could he? Especially knowing of her masochistic tendencies. Cullen couldn’t supress his sobs as he considered this. She was never coming back, one way or another and the last thing he’d said to her, she, whom he loved above all else was essentially ‘Go die.’

He lay there waiting for his breaths to return to regularity, inhaling her scent and hoping to dedicate it to memory. She couldn’t be gone, not forever; between their duties in the keep and her campaigns afar, there was never much time for the two of them. But surely they’d both suffered enough to deserve more than this. He certainly wanted more. Void take him if he’d already exhausted his Maker-given time with her. That couldn’t be it though, he refused to believe so. She’d battled monsters, giants, abominations, archdemons and magisters, fallen back and forth through the fade and had a whole bloody mountain collapse on her. And still, at every hurdle she rose indomitable, the tiny mage woman who cried a lot and liked to sit in his lap. Even if she’d ran from him forever, she was alive, surviving, doing her best. Maker, he’d never known anyone to try so-

Cullen shot upright, hand to the pommel of his sword, as the door to Mariella’s chambers rattled and began creeping open. He unsheathed quietly, sinking upon his haunches to creep stealthily behind the balcony curtains as the door slowly continued opening. A slight figure entered clad in a cloak; the hood was drawn and they were dripping, obviously having been soaked through by the storm. The cloaked stranger huffed before closing the door as carefully as it had been opened. An assassin perhaps? A spy? Who? The questions whirled as Cullen peered through the slight gap in the curtains, but he needed to act quickly.

Throwing back the curtains, the commander levelled his sword at the intruder who was still turned away.

“Who are you!? How did you get in and what business have you in the quarters of the Inquisitor!?” he barked

The cloaked one jumped in shock but made no move to turn or speak. Cullen began to close in on them.

“Speak! Before I rend you were you stand!”

His sword was raised but it hit the floor with a noisy clang as Mariella lowered her hood and turned to him slowly. 

“Mariella” he whispered, unwilling to look away- nay, to even blink. 

He continued to stare as she regarded him warily: silver eyes guarded and wide; hair dark and still dripping, tangled wild around her face; her skin was its usual freckled alabaster, cheeks and lips a flushed pink; dark circles underlined the bright orbs staring him down. She looked exhausted and half-drowned and like an absolute vision. 

A hand raised and half extended towards her face, trembling as Mariella flinched back slightly before looking away. Cullen didn’t stop however, stepping into the space between them and cupping her chin. He turned her face slowly, eyes raking over every feature, drinking her in until she would meet his gaze again. She jolted again as he positioned their faces close enough so that she could hear him whisper.

“Is this the fade? A dream? I see you nightly in my dreams but you’re always gone by morning.”

His hand was covered with her own and he gasped at the contact, fresh tears brimming.

“I am here, Cullen.”

At her words, the lion of a man fell to his knees; large arms wrapped around her as he buried his face into the drenched cloak. He was whispering and trembling into the wet fabric and had the mage’s resolve wavering. She shouldn’t allow this, had promised herself she’d end things with Cullen on her return to Skyhold. She could never deny to herself that she loved him but also they couldn’t be together anymore. Warm tears fell at the thought and she was brought her hands down flat on Cullen’s shoulders in frustration.

“Stop. Please. We- I can’t Cullen…”

He lifted his head and released her from his grasp only to take her hand, nuzzling into her palm.

“Here I was, so happy to see you that I almost forgot how I have wronged you.” He kissed the hand and released it back to its owner then standing erect before her. “Take off your wet cloak, and then please come and sit with me? That I may try and make you understand me?”

Mariella considered trying to get him to leave and to put this off until morning hopefully after she’d had some rest, and if she got lucky she’d be too busy catching up with paperwork and repenting for going AWOL to have this conversation at all. She considered it, probably would have gone through with it too but he had her frozen with the desperation in his gaze and a savage whisper of “Please.” She nodded once and the warrior turned away to sit on the bed’s end, a deep breath leaving him.

The mage began to disrobe, not caring if Cullen watched; let him have his final look at her body before she turned him away forever. Besides, if she was going to have to have this unpleasant conversation she may as well be dry and comfortable and ready to promptly go to bed once it ended. 

She shivered as the damp garments pooled around her feet before stepping out of them and towards her dresser. The Inquisitor turned to the ex-Templar on her bed when he let out a sputtering cough. He was turned away but it didn’t prevent her from observing the red tops of his ears. Good, let him be flustered, let him think of her now the next time he considered telling a girl to kill herself.

Mariella shivered, both from the cold nightdress she was pulling on, and the incoming fate she was about to thrust upon them both. She may have been about to hurt him but he was resilient, he would find love again, she was sure. The mage stifled a sob at the thought. Rubbing her face furiously with the sleeves of her satin gown, she went and took her place, careful to put as much space between them as the bed would allow. As she sat down, however, Cullen stood.

He paced shortly from left to right and kept grabbing fistfuls of the golden hair Mariella loved so much, pausing, turning to her, opening his mouth as if to speak before continuing to pace. This continued until she cleared her breath quietly: the commander looked to her quickly before dropping to his knees once again in supplication.  
“This has honestly been the longest week of my life. I realise how there is nothing I can even begin to say that will convince you of how sorry I am for what I said to you. I just wanted to you to stop…thinking you’re expendable, that your life has to be given to this cause! You will not die for this. Precious girl, far too precious for that fate. I’d sooner bow to Corypheus than lose you to him. I don’t want to lose you, please, Mariella, I can’t lose you. If you no longer want to be” he paused, swallowed “together…I will endure it but for you to die? I cannot accept it, I will not accept it. Before you walked into this room my mind was tormenting me with every possible danger you may have been out there facing alone, Maker, I am so glad you’re back…”

He trailed off into a whisper, head remaining bowed over her knees. Had he suffered like this the whole time she was away? Just listening to his plea had her shaking with grief. She had caused this, and had probably hurt so many of her other friends, all because she was too sensitive to let her past go. She left in despair but stayed away out of indignation. None of them deserved this but what was she to do in order to make it up to them?

“Cullen. Cullen, stand up.” Was the next thing the ex-templar heard besides the gratuitous howling of the wind. He did as was commanded, looking down upon his little herald, gut clenching as her face remained steeled. But his nerves shattered with her charade.

Mariella gave in to her trademark tears, allowing them to flow freely. She wrapped her arms around the warrior’s broad waist, squeezing as much as her waning strength would allow. “I love you Cullen! Thank you for waiting, for not giving up, I am so sorry for leaving, but I’m back now. Forever.”

“Wait.” He jerked her away from his body, eyes wide and glistening again “Does that mean you’ll stay? You’ll stay with me?”

Managing to smile through the tears she could only nod feverishly before holding her arms open to him once more.

Cullen swept her up immediately and held the small woman in the steadfast cage arms before pressing their lips together. It was a sweet kiss, lingering and chaste and exactly what they both needed right now but ending too soon as Mariella yawned. That earned her a chuckle before she was being lifted off the floor entirely and then placed gently back down upon her bed. As soon as she was down Mariella was scooting over, making a space before patting it dreamily, smiling up at the man before her. He went to turn away before her hand shot out and grasped at his sleeve.

“Easy,” he soothed “I’m not going anywhere, I don’t want either of us to overheat because of too many layers, is all.” Pacified, Mariella collapsed back against the pillows and Cullen chuckled again putting his back to her. Thank the maker he was only wearing light breeches and a tunic. He pulled the shirt off and tossed it onto the clothes he’d watch be discarded earlier before climbing into bed.

Instinctively, as soon as he joined her, Mariella shifted so she was half on top of him, head pillowed on his pectoral. She could only mutter before sleep took her but she extended the effort anyway “m’sorry m’love…love you so much”

A smile broke out warmly and held her close, exhaustion seeping in “I love you too, my darling” he planted a soft kiss to her shoulder before coming to rest his cheek on the top of her head “Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again friends I am very sorry that I can't seem to write anything but angst but I promise I've got au's on the way as well as new characters and stories (and maybe some smut if you get lucky). I hope that you enjoy what I write! Comments/kudos etc always very much appreciated. 1love <3


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